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Sometimes people are stupid. And that stupidity just festers and builds and invades everything. It can ruin even the best day and make a bad day unbearable. The way that it crawls inside and latches on until it takes over everything even once i’ve escaped the stupidity. It just lingers and clings and refuses to fucking let you go.It’s like glitter. Once you’ve exposed yourself you’re stuck with it for forever. And it never goes away on its own. But it’s too fucking slippery to get rid of it yourself. It builds and builds and builds and builds and builds. Then the itches come. The itch to just make it go away.
It would be so easy. All it would take is one little outburst to make people stay way. Something a little more violent could stop any interaction all together. Or even just disappearing. It can’t cling and fester if I don’t get exposed in the first place. It would be so easy.
But those lessons aren’t supposed to apply anymore. Now, I’m supposed to be GOOD. Whatever that means. Not falling back on those old lessons is what it’s supposed to be. But none of the new lessons mention how to handle all of this. It just says to fit in. To grin and bear it. To join in it. To hide in it. But doing that triggers the frustration.
The frustration doesn’t leave me alone either. It claws in a different way. The stupidity slowly eats away at everything while the frustration rips and bites like a hungry animal. It doesn’t just destroy. It decimates. It conquers. I consumes. It fights till there’s nothing left but the snarling, angry beast that can’t find release.
And when this happens, nothing seems to work.
The frustration is too rough for the calming animals. It’s too unsafe for training. It’s too wild for productivity. It’s too restless for reading or drawing or playing the violin. It doesn’t work with anything. Except running.
The nice thing about the grounds is the forests. There’s room to run. And no one around to become collateral damage. Just trees and bushes and small animals that know enough to get out of the fucking way. The frustration roars and howls and explodes.
Everything becomes a blur of green with shadows of green and highlights of blue. It combines and swirls and confuses until it doesn’t even matter. The movement and anger is enough. It dislodges everything. And the running leaves it behind. It’s running away. But it’s not. Because that feeling of giving up is left behind too. Everything is left behind. There is no more anger. There is no more frustration. There is no more restraint. There is no more confusion. There is no more sadness. There is no more elation. There is no more drive. There is no more contentment. There is no more pride. There is no more shame. There is no more pressure.
There is only green.
And calm.
And, slowly things start to come back, but in snippets.
First, the feeling of the dirt peeking out from under the leaves and sticks and general foliage underneath hands and arms and legs and a head.
Then the sounds of the cicadas nearby. The animals were disturbed by the recent action and creates the sound that is present and surrounding and grounding.
Then the smell of the place. The mix of natural smells that comes from a place occupied by life that grows and crawls and digs and flies and hides and runs and climbs and spreads.
All of it pronounced by the green that surrounds it all.
It’s an escape only meant for the worst of situations. One that releases all to be replaced with calming nothing. Allowing things to come back as they have permission to.